


This Hero Business

by days4daisy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, References to Canonical Character Death, Season/Series 10, Stolen Grace!Castiel, Tumblr Prompt, brief scene of adult trying to rob a teenage girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:06:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3828307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley knows these eyes. And he knows her mouth, puckered pink lips frozen in a scowl. He knows her soft, peach skin. Knows her bony shoulders and her long, slender fingers.  </p>
<p>Crowley decides to test a theory.</p>
<p>--<br/>Takes place sometime between 10x10 - 10x14. General Season 10 spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Hero Business

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this lovely Tumblr anon:
> 
> _No but just picture this: Crowley running across Claire in trouble and knowing exactly who she is and to bring her to Cas because he'd recognize "those blue peepers" anywhere._
> 
> I was a little nervous writing Claire for the first time, but it was a fun try! I really need Crowley and Claire to meet on the show. The sass would be off the charts *o*

Crowley only goes topside for a bit of fresh air. His minions are the usual, stupid lot, and his mother is insufferable. A stroll through the trees seemed like a welcome respite.

Instead of peace, he happens upon a fray. It is a human conflict, a man accosting a girl half his height at knife point. He demands her money and whatever else is in arm's reach.

The assailant sports one hell of a shiner. Clearly, the sweetheart knows how to scrap. But she is roughed up herself, bleeding from a cut above the eyebrow. The man has her by the hair, leering like he’s accomplished something. 

Crowley approves of violence and torture. Gets off on both, actually. But nothing is more annoying than a human on a high horse. He would normally ignore the scuffle and continue on. But this evening, he decides to have a bit of fun. 

Crowley appears behind the brute and stabs him in the back with his angel blade. The man’s final expression is wide-eyed disbelief. What a silly way to go.

He crumbles to the ground, leaving Crowley with the damsel in distress. Fancy this, the King of Hell playing the Knight in Shining Armor. He puffs out his chest and prepares himself for his well-deserved adoration and thanks. 

Crowley is met, instead, with a fist to the jaw. Grating as this is, he must admit that the lady packs a mean right hook.

Crowley freezes her with a wave of his hand. Only her eyes are able to move. They shift about, frightened and - heh - more than a little pissed off.  

Her anger amuses Crowley. He takes his sweet time dabbing at the spot where her punch landed. No harm done, of course. But it makes a good show.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he says.

During this reprieve, Crowley gets a closer look at the girl. Blonde hair, braided on one side. Cute. 

Shockingly vibrant blue eyes, far less cute. Blue as the Heavens. Or as the purest island beaches. A stupid, beautiful, familiar blue. 

Crowley knows these eyes. And he knows her mouth, puckered pink lips frozen in a scowl. He knows her soft, peach skin. Knows her bony shoulders and her long, slender fingers.  

Crowley decides to test a theory. He places a hand on her arm.

In a blink, they appear in a motel room.

“Claire, are you all right? What happened?" Castiel is on his feet the moment they arrive.

"I thought this might belong to you,” Crowley says. With a snap, he releases this ‘Claire’ from his spell. 

“I was fine,” Claire mutters, once she is able to speak. She emphasizes her words with a glare at Crowley.

“Oh yes,” Crowley replies, smirking at her sliced brow. “Quite fine, love.”

He starts when the girl is suddenly torn from his side. 

Castiel has Claire by the wrist. He puts himself between her and Crowley. “What are you doing?” Castiel demands.

Crowley raises a brow. He is 0-for-2 on owed gratitude, apparently.

“Your little mouse required assistance,” Crowley explains. This should all be quite simple, really. 

But then, he is dealing with Castiel, after all. Heaven's favorite rube. 

“If you come near Claire again, I will tear you apart.” Castiel's voice is barely above a whisper. 

Crowley frowns. He opens his mouth to retort, but the girl beats him to the punch. Figuratively, this time. 

“Back off, Castiel,” Claire grits. “This guy helped me, all right?”

Funny, a moment ago she was fine.

“He is not some _guy_ , Claire.” Castiel's anger-dark eyes never leave Crowley. “Get out," he mutters. "Now.” He pulls his blade and lifts it for emphasis.

“Fine." Crowley musters a final glare. "Pleasure as always, champ.”

As he disappears, he sighs. What a thankless job, this hero business. No wonder the Winchesters are such a mess.

***

“That was rude,” Claire remarks.

She winces when Castiel presses fingers to her forehead. But the pain is short-lived. In seconds, the sting fades from her brow and jaw. Claire touches her face. The cuts and swelling are gone.

“I can take care of myself, Castiel” she argues, out of habit. “I don’t need you to-” 

She shuts up when Castiel stutters away from her. He is pale when he sinks onto the edge of a mattress. 

For a terrible second, Claire remembers the warehouse. Her dad on the ground with a bullet hole in his stomach. Claire saw him, even with the angel inside her. Heard her dad beg to be taken so she would be spared. She can still see the blood staining his teeth.

“What’s wrong with you?” Claire asks.

“I’m fine, Claire,” Castiel mumbles. He keeps his head turned as he catches his breath. “I’m glad you’re safe.” 

He mops a weary hand through his hair, messing it all up. Claire bites her lip. Dad never did that. He was always neat. Too neat, maybe.

“I bet that other angel could help you,” she says.

Castiel chuckles bitterly. “Crowley’s no angel."

"But he had a knife like yours.”

“A knife he stole from an angel he killed,” Castiel mutters. His skin still holds a sickly pallor, but his glare looks more like the angel Claire knows. Righteous and stubborn. “Crowley is a demon, Claire. Stay away from him.”

Claire frowns. “I don’t get it. Why’d he help me if he’s a demon?”

Castiel exhales slowly, hesitating. “I don’t know. To get to me, somehow. I thought I was careful. I don’t see how he knew about you.” He shakes his head. “One of his informants must have seen us together.”

Demon spies? Really?

“That makes no sense,” she tells him. Like any of her life makes sense. “If he wanted to get to you, why not kill me?”

“Claire-”

“Why not dump me in a ditch somewhere?" Claire insists. "Why bring me to you when he didn’t have to?”

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” Castiel snaps. Claire glares at his curtness, but she keeps her mouth shut. 

With her silence, Castiel softens. “I’d…like you to stay tonight. I have the extra bed." He waves towards the second double bed, as if Claire's eyes aren't working. "In the morning, I can take you wherever you need to go.”

Claire snorts. “You still driving that rust bucket?”

Castiel smiles. It’s a strange smile, though. Worn down. She can't remember the angel ever looking so tired. 

Claire watches Castiel lie on the bed. He keeps everything on - even his coat and the necktie she convinced him to wear.

“Um,” Claire tilts her head. “Wait, you sleep now?”

“I’m all right, Claire,” he mumbles. The words slur together. “I’m happy you’re safe.”

“Castiel?” Claire takes a tentative step towards the bed. “Hey, you sure you’re okay?”

Low, rasping breaths are the only answer Claire gets. Castiel’s brow knots with discomfort. His body curls in sleep.

_His_ body. Not Dad's.

Claire immediately feels sick. She twists the door knob and staggers out of the room. 

The parking lot is empty. Claire takes off down the street, every intention of running and not looking back.

But she stops before she is offer the property. 

Claire thinks of the way Castiel stumbled back after healing her. It was healing her that made him weak, she realizes. 

That's impossible, though. Castiel is an angel. His power... Claire still has nightmares about his energy inside her. It felt like her entire body was on fire. Like she tried to swallow the sun. 

She couldn't go outside for awhile after it happened, hid in dark rooms and cried. The sun felt warm on her skin. Tingling and hot. Claire remembered Castiel burning her from the inside out. And that made her think of Dad on the ground. Her hand stroking his hair like a child.

Castiel is more powerful than Claire's mind can comprehend. But curing her hurt him? 

Something is wrong. Really wrong.

Claire considers calling the Winchesters. But she nixes the idea fast. Things with her and Hasselhoff are still weird. And sure, Claire knows Dean and Sam care about Castiel. But she also knows things get bloody quick when they’re around. 

What other options does she have though? Who would even begin to know how to help?

Claire clasps her hands together. She clears her throat, staring awkwardly at her knuckles. 

“Look. I don’t know if you can hear prayers, okay?" She can't believe she's doing this. "I don’t…worship Satan or whatever. And I get it, Castiel was a dick to you. You’re probably mad at me too. I just, I don’t know what to do.”

“Sadly, peach, prayers aren’t really our speed." Claire spins around. Crowley's back is against the motel's siding. 

The demon glances at his watch. It's a good one, Claire can tell from her thieving days. Real leather strap. 14K gold band around the face. 

“We prefer flashier modes of communication," Crowley adds. "Devil rituals. Blood spells. The grosser, the better. You understand.”

"Why'd you show then?” Claire grits.

Crowley shrugs. “Never left,” he replies. “I wanted to see what became of you. I admire a lady with a jab like yours.”

His faked boredom makes Claire nervous. The demon's posture might be relaxed, but she sees how sharp his eyes are. They glint, dark and focused under long, fenced lashes. Crowley would not have answered her if there wasn't something in it for him. But what is he here for - her or Castiel? 

Claire thinks she knows the answer. “Are you going to hurt him?” she asks.

Crowley raises a brow. “Would you like me to?” The question surprises Claire. 

After a second, she smiles. “A few years ago, maybe.” Pausing, Claire bites her lip. She needs to watch what she says. "Look, I don't want him to hurt." The words are whispered like an uncertain secret. “I was mad at him. Didn't get me anywhere.”

The demon nods, more serious than she expected. “You care.”

“So do you,” Claire presses.

Crowley rolls his eyes at her insinuation. “When the time comes, I’ll revel in tearing that angel apart," he replies. "Trust me, little one. He will deserve every ounce of pain he gets.”

Claire should be afraid. She doesn’t doubt that Crowley can make good on his threat. His casual pose can’t hide what’s under his skin. Something violent and wrong. Pure, furious energy.

But she still says, "You’ll miss him.”

Crowley glare catches her like a hook in a fish's mouth. She swears, for a second his eyes...turn red. 

“Are we done?” he mutters.

No, they can't be done. Crowley needs to help her figure out what's wrong with Castiel. He's the only one who can. 

Crowley can say what he wants, she knows he cares. Maybe Crowley wishes he didn't. Maybe he's like Claire. She wants to hate the angel. He ruined her family, ruined her life. But she doesn't want him to die. The demon doesn't either. 

And...he would have done something to help already, she realizes. If he could. 

Claire nods silently. The demon disappears. She stands alone outside for awhile, looking down at her shoes.

But eventually, Claire returns to the motel room. Castiel is fast asleep on his bed, a hand curled under his cheek. 

“Doof,” she whispers. 

Claire climbs onto the second bed. She stretches on her side and sets her head on the pillows. Castiel’s back is to her. Claire listens to him breathe as she closes her eyes.

Can the demon see them, she wonders? Claire never finds out for sure. But she thinks she knows.

***

Castiel does not want Claire to get on the bus. But faith, he has learned, requires knowing when to let go. Castiel believes in Claire, so he does not ask her to stay. 

Instead, he says, “Please keep in touch when you can. I will hear your prayers, Claire.”

She shrugs, as if the idea makes her uncomfortable. “I’ll call, maybe,” she mumbles.

Castiel nods. He does not understand her discomfort over prayer, but cellphone contact will work too. And it will be easier on his ailing grace.

“Take care of yourself, Claire,” he says.

“You too.” Claire stares at him pointedly.  

Castiel is shamed by the look. He did not consider the potential side effects of curing her. Claire’s wounds were so small. Healing them should not have affected his stolen grace like it did. Castiel regrets causing her concern.

But Castiel also senses that Claire cares about him, in her own way. As guilty as Castiel feels for burdening her, he is also pleased.

Claire waves at something over his shoulder. Castiel glances back. 

He is unhappy, but not surprised, to find the King of Hell propped against the side of his Continental.  With a scowl, Castiel turns back around. 

Claire's embrace catches him off guard. Castiel gapes a moment, then awkwardly wraps his arms around her. A rush of fulfillment warms him.

When Castiel releases Claire, he finds himself smiling.

“Later, goofball,” Claire says. She climbs onto the bus.

Castiel waits a minute, staring at the open door. Then, he retreats to his parked car, and the demon leaning against it. 

“I can’t believe you let yourself be seen in this junk heap,” Crowley remarks.

Castiel should give Crowley choice words for approaching Claire again. Instead, he says, “Thank you.”

They look at each other, quiet and uncomfortable.

Castiel huffs after a moment. “I don’t know what your end game is, Crowley. But you helped Claire. I’m grateful, even if your intention was to hurt me-“

“Mother of Sin,” Crowley cuts in, rolling his eyes. “When have I ever needed a motive to kill an idiot human? It's not always about you, you giraffe.”

Castiel stares at him. Crowley raises a challenging brow.

Without comment, Castiel opens the driver’s side door and climbs into the car. He closes the door behind himself.

When he turns, Crowley has appeared in the passenger seat. His brow is still raised.

They sit in silence as Claire’s bus disappears around a corner.

“Are you going to leave?” Castiel asks.

“No.” The answer is completely expected. Castiel sighs. 

He turns the key in the ignition. The car bounces up, then down on its hydraulics. A hard, rapid-fire drum beats through the speaker system.

Crowley glowers. “Are you serious?”

Castiel smiles as he pulls out of the parking lot.

*The End*

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love chatting Supernatural with folks, so feel free to say hi over at my [Tumblr](http://daisy4days.tumblr.com) :)


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